A Glee 1812 Overture
by IlovesMesomeGlee
Summary: I'M POSTING THIS FOR A FRIEND.- Before Peter Tchaikovsky wrote the classic, the real 1812 battle with the French tore Russia apart. But may have brought two people together. Rated T. Don't own Glee. Kurtofsky.


AN: Hello Everyone. :)

This idea isn't my own but I was asked to post it here by a very good friend. This story is his. :)

Thank you all for reading! Enjoy! :)

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Chapter 1

They lost their comrades. They lost their weapons. They even lost their sense of direction. The smoke from the muskets distorted in the cold, cold Russian winter hung like a fog that chokes your life. And yet, Dave knew he had to do something, go somewhere, do anything.

"Comrade!"

Dave wildly turned around to see a smallish, looking guy who wore the armaments of a superior officer. Panting and desperate, Dave addressed him. "Yes, sir!"

"Get my cannon ready!"

"But sir! The French! They are coming! We can't-!"

"Goddammit! We are Russians!"

Dave didn't hesitate. He mounted the nearest cannon. The officer lit the fuse and Dave lifted the enormous ball that often took two, sometimes three men to lift. But he slid it into the cannon and pushed down the padding. And before he was ready, he heard the command!

"FIRE!"

Dave steadied himself and fired the cannon into the advancing French army. Around him, women, children, and even animals ran for shelter. Winter shielded no one and he even saw someone run without an arm.

"Pull back, Karofsky!"

Dave didn't hesitate. "Yes, Lieutenant Hummel!"

And then more sounds of war smashed their senses – cries, pain, tears, fear, panic, running, trampling. Dave thought about helping a woman and her child off the ground until he heard that terrible, terrible whine in the air.

French mortar!

"DUCK!"

Dave and Kurt hit the ground as the French cannons blasted all around them. And when the dust cleared but the smoke didn't, Dave heard him again.

"RELOAD!"

Dave immediately got to work, ignoring the pain in his lungs and arms. Lieutenant Hummel had to help him load the cannonball just as the first of the French soldiers could be seen.

"Oh no you don't!" Dave roared and fired without command!

BOOM! Explosions filled the air as more people ran screaming. Some were Russian, others were French, but nobody cared in 1812 southern Russia.

Pain was pain.

And yet, they kept coming!

Dave desperately grabbed another cannonball. And that's when it dawned on him that Lieutenant Hummel was nowhere around. He feared the worst but did not detract from his duty. He was David Karofsky, after all.

"Don't move you Russian bastard!"

And that was it. That was the moment he'd been dreading for all of his twenty-three years of existence. The sound of a cocky, angry, invader telling HIM what to do. And then, he knew.

He was now a prisoner of war.

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Mother Russia could always be relied upon for two things – one, stubbornness. And two, the cold. Always the cold. It was always so incredibly cold in Russia despite the summer months.

And yet Dave didn't seem to care. He was currently shackled in his cell with one or two other Russian soldiers. He didn't know their names but he knew they were comrades. The French guards looked at them with apprehension. Dave was fierce-looking and they were always at guard for a little rebellion. And yet, the soldier simply stared back at them. He didn't understand their language. He didn't understand their ways. He didn't understand why their leader, this Bonaparte character, had to invade his precious country.

But there it was.

Scraps of food had been thrown down and despite the pain in his throat and belly, he refused the pathetic morsels. The others around him didn't. Dave just continued to watch them, desperately trying to learn something, anything about the status of the war. But not much information was learned. And it burned a fire in him.

Suddenly, the door to the cell opened and Dave looked up. The one thing you never want to see in times of indecision, times of battle, times of WAR, is the sight of your commanding officer being thrown at you and falling to the floor. But that's exactly what happened. And after that happened and the doors were slammed shut, Dave immediately leapt into action.

"Sir!"

He reached down to help the Lieutenant up. "I'm…I'm f-fine."

"Oh God, no you're not." Dave cried. He put his fist in his mouth as he stared at Lieutenant Hummel. He was missing a tooth and had several punch marks on the face. There was a scrape above his eye and why was he grabbing the seat of his pants?

"I said, I am!" Kurt snapped. "I…I'm fine."

Dave didn't even think. He simply scooped up some of the oats from the floor of the cell.

"Here, sir. Eat."

"I'm fine. You eat."

"No, sir. Please."

And when Kurt raised his eyes into the stubborn soldier's, he could see the strength, the determination, the way he cared for those superior to him. And Kurt had to admire that. Very, very reluctantly, he scraped the oats from Dave's fingers and ate.

"For all of their reputation," Kurt said and spat, "the French sure can't cook food for shit."

Dave laughed. "It's good to hear you say that, sir."

"Don't call me that in here."

"Why not, sir?"

"Stop that!" Kurt ordered. "We don't want…! We don't want anyone getting anymore ideas of what they could try to…DO to us. In here."

Dave narrowed his eyes a bit but didn't inquire. Kurt didn't ask anymore. Instead, the wear and tear of the battle tore at him and he collapsed on his side in the cell. Dave immediately took action near him.

"Sleep…sir."

"I said, not to-"

"I know. I know."

And somehow, someway, those words haunted Kurt Hummel. He feared he would say that to Private Karofsky someday.

And he was right.

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End file.
